


Brandy Alexander

by aladdinboy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Old men being romantic, Oneshot, mixology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 23:29:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19030156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aladdinboy/pseuds/aladdinboy
Summary: Inspired by Harry and Draco's romance, Florean Fortescue tries romance once again. With Harry's boss.After I read Season of the Spirit, I had an overwhelming urge to ship Mr. Borteg and Florean Fortescue, for reasons I know not. This is the quick one-shot I came up with. Nothing fancy, complex, or long, just some mindless fluff and drabble, and two older men being cute together.





	Brandy Alexander

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saras_Girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saras_Girl/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Season of the Spirit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17360159) by [Saras_Girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saras_Girl/pseuds/Saras_Girl). 



"Thank you very much!" Called Harry, wiping his brow. The day had been unusually busy, what with Valentine's Day approaching at a rather terrifying speed. Already, Mr. Borteg's had sold out of the annual heart-shaped decanters, the smokey lemon sticks, and the glass tumblers that made the whiskey appear to glitter rainbow colors. Within seconds, there were four more customers streaming through the new door, despite the shop officially closing in less than ten minutes, and Harry glanced at Mr. Borteg, shuffling in from the back room. Mr. Borteg gave Harry a nod, depositing a stack of new lemon sticks on the counter.

"I noticed our artist-in-residence and metrologist is missing today," Mr. Borteg murmured, eyeing Rose's empty desk. "I hope she hasn't caught that case of blusterfung that was making the rounds."

Harry shook his head. "No, she's fine. Monday is a holiday for the school, so they're taking the weekend to visit Hermione's parents down in Australia." Harry frowned. "What exactly does Rose have to do with the weather, though?"

"Metrology, Harry, not meteorology. The study of measurements and scales."

Harry laughed as he rang up the next customer's purchase, knowing what would come next. And, predictably—

"Metrology, you know, is much like distilling spirits. Both require a keen eye, an understanding of the material at hand, and, of course, fine attention to detail. The very kerf of a blade or a drop of liquid can tip scales, you know."

"Is that so?" Asked a familiar voice.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," greeted Mr. Borteg, offering him a slightly jerky bow.

"Mr. Borteg," he replied. "I was hoping I could borrow Harry once you're closed."

"Only as long as you return him unharmed and prepared to work in the morning," Mr. Borteg replied. "I can handle the last few customers on my own, Harry." He made a shooing motion with his hands. "I'll close up shop in a few minutes. Go, enjoy having a few extra moments unbound by the shackles of employment."

"Mr. Borteg, you make working for you sound so unbearable. I really should complain about false advertising, given how much I enjoy working here," Harry laughed, before taking Draco's hand and heading toward the door.

"On your way now," he murmured, turning his attention to the next customer, a portly elderly lady with bright green hair.

"Such a cute couple," she said, her weak voice rattling out in an American accent. "To be young again…"

"Indeed," he replied, wrapping her purchase in a protective charm and packing it into a paper bag. "To often we allow life to pass us by, waiting for a moment that has already come and gone. But when two souls find each other in the dark, the light they produce warms us all. And I feel honored to be warmed by our very own Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy."

"Well spoken," the lady said, before taking her bag and heading out the door.

The last customer in the shop turned to Mr. Borteg. "You always have had a unique eloquence."

"Florean!" Mr. Borteg wheezed, his face breaking into a rarely-seen grin. He lurched around the counter and flipped the sign on the window to read 'Closed - Sorry We Missed You!' before more customers could enter. "What brings you down to my humble shop?"

"Do you want my true reason or would you like to hear my excuse?" Florean asked, leaning against an ancient oak table displaying rows upon rows of whiskey, brandy, and cognac.

"Let us indulge in the excuse, I think." Mr. Borteg positioned himself against the wall, an arthritic hand clutching the counter. "We can save the underlying truth for a digestif."

"Very well. Are you familiar with a mixed beverage known as a Brandy Alexander?"

Mr. Borteg shook his head. "I'm afraid my purview is limited to merely the building blocks of mixed drinks."

"It's traditionally made from brandy or cognac, a chocolate liquor, and cream. However, a common variant uses ice cream in place of the cream. Tom, from the Leaky, has asked me to work with you to create a Brandy Alexander for the pub." Florean laughed—a light, fluttering sound that was more suited for someone fifty years younger. "His idea of making a Leaky Cauldron 'fancy' seems to be adding fancier items to their menu, not cleaning the walls or repairing the tables."

"It wouldn't be the Leaky Cauldron if the tables were shiny and fresh," Mr. Borteg replied, eyeing Florean with a glimmer in his eye.

"No, nor would my ice cream parlor be Florean Fortescue's if I myself were shiny and fresh." Florean shot back, a wry but tender smile on his lips. "You more than anyone should know that the finest flavors come from time and experience."

Mr. Borteg laughed. His laugh was much creakier and contained more wheeze than laugh, but it still made Florean's eyes light up. "I have missed your presence. Come, let us decant into the back room, and you can tell me more about Tom's commission."

* * *

"Cinnamon?"

"Nutmeg."

"Cherry."

"Something earthy?"

"But not too heavy."

"Not fruity, either."

"Chocolate?"

"Already in the creme de cacao."

"Coffee?"

"Now there's an idea."

Mr. Borteg and Florean Fortescue were hunched over a scrap of parchment, both scribbling and crossing out flavors and ingredients. Their shoulders occasionally bumped, and their wrists often collided, at one point getting the ends of their quills tangled together.

"Perhaps we are overthinking this," Florean said, at last leaning back and eyeing their list. "I generally design my ice cream flavors around a base idea or ingredient, and add middle and top notes until I reach perfection. Maybe we should try that approach here?"

Mr. Borteg sighed. "I believe you may be right, Florean. As you so often are."

Florean shot Mr. Borteg a slightly confused look, before shaking his head and sitting down in one of the overstuffed chairs. "The base is three ingredients. Brandy, creme de cacao, and ice cream."

Mr. Borteg lurched over to the seat often occupied by Harry. "The chocolate liquor already has a base flavor. Chocolate. Let us begin with that."

Florean nodded and tugged gently on one of his plaits. "Chocolate contrasts nicely with cherry, peanut butter, cream, vanilla, caramel—"

"Vanilla!" Croaked Mr. Borteg. "That should be the base."

"A simple vanilla ice cream?"

Mr. Borteg shook his head. "Not just any vanilla ice cream. _Your_ vanilla ice cream."

"Perhaps French vanilla?"

"And I believe I have a cognac that suits this exactly. One moment," he murmured, hoisting himself out of the chair and scuttling off into the shadows of the distillery. Florean took a moment to relax, breathing in the scents of toasted oak, leather, and copper that surrounded the stills, along with the spicier smells of whiskeys-to-be. Ever one to dissect a flavor, Florean closed his eyes, homing in on the scents that weren't tied to the distilling process. There was Harry Potter, smoky and bold, like dark chocolate. And there was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to spend enough time in Borteg's back room to leave his scent—citrus and a hint of cloves. Oh, and there was Needle, who smelled distinctly of lemongrass and lilac. Florean's lips curled into a smile as he narrowed in on the last, and most prominent smell: Mr. Borteg himself. Wheat, honey, and pecans. He licked his lips, only opening his eyes as Mr. Borteg himself tumbled out of the shadows and collapsed into his chair, clutching an unlabelled glass flask and two unadorned glass tumblers.

"I cannot say why this one—a Martha through and through—did not occur to me at first. It was a bit of an experiment, I'll admit, but I think perhaps… It just might work." He poured two fingers of deep red liquid into each tumbler, then handed one to Florean.

The ice cream maker swirled the drink, took a deep whiff, then sipped gingerly. "I believe this is it," he murmured, eyes closed. "Yes, and I know just the ice cream to pair it with— Malagasy Vanilla Bean." He opened his eyes, smiling softly at Mr. Borteg. "You really are a wonder."

"As are you, my friend. Now, with the selection sorted, perhaps we could indulge in the true reason you came to visit me? While finding the proper ingredients for Tom has been a lovely distraction, I hardly believe you came here just to peruse my wares. Your flavors are always deep and layered."

Florean sighed. "Bellamy Borteg. You know, I've known you longer than any other shop owner on Diagon Alley. Longer than any other friend of mine, now that I think of it."

"I presume this is about our brief dalliance so many years ago?" Borteg asked, his eyes turning melancholy. "I take full responsibility for my actions back then."

"Nonsense. We were both young. Naive. Impatient."

"True…"

"And it does not do to dwell on the past."

"Lest we forget to live. Yes, I am well aware of Albus's adage."

"Seeing our Misters Potter and Malfoy… Well… It makes me wonder."

"Wonder?" Mr. Borteg leaned over, his eyes shining in the candlelight.

"If perhaps it was simply not the right time."

"Oh, it was most certainly the wrong time. Unfortunately, it is all too often that the correct moment can only be identified after it has passed. Time, I have found, is a cruel creature."

"Ah, I don't know." Florean smiled. "I'm quite fond of the way time has treated you. Like your wonderful creations, you only grow more wonderful with age." He leaned over, resting his elbow on the armrest of his chair, and brought his lips to Mr. Borteg's. "Bellamy…"

"Florean… I am afraid I no longer have much to offer you as a romantic companion. I've lost the vim and vigor of youth, and long ago shriveled into the husk you see before you."

"Why do you think I have anything less than adoration for what you are now?" Florean murmured, his lips only inches away from Mr. Borteg's. "Our bodies may not be as sprightly as they were, but Potter and Malfoy have reminded me of just how bright and wonderful love can be, and how friendship roots us all. You are my friend, and I never stopped loving you."

Mr. Borteg beamed. "For what it's worth, neither did I. I only doubted myself—never you."

Florean climbed out of his chair and onto the armrest of Mr. Borteg's chair, resting his head on Borteg's shoulder. "Shall we try romance again?"

"It would be my honor." And in that moment, Mr. Borteg kissed Florean on the lips, bringing a smile to both of their faces. And for just one moment, they both appeared to glow.


End file.
